


Metanoia or Kismet?

by chronos_dragons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronos_dragons/pseuds/chronos_dragons
Summary: Some people seek change to be extraordinary, and some want to be ordinary.Wanda's tired from everything, especially after Pietro. She just wants to run away from all it. Normality. Peter wants to be extraordinary, to be more than who he is. He wants to be great in this age of Heroes, like Iron Man, and help Uncle Ben and Aunt May. Then he meets Wanda whose more than happy to be normal.
Relationships: Ben Parker & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff/Peter Parker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Metanoia or Kismet?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or the characters. I own nothing here except for the plot.
> 
> Definition of Metanoia  
> : a transformative change of heart, change in one's way of life
> 
> Definition of Kismet  
> : a force that some people think controls what happens in the future, and is outside human control

Wanda looked at the large clean buildings when they landed on the new Avengers compound. It was different from the drab, empty, and ruined parts of Sokovia. Pietro, her brother’s body was cold to touch. And here she was— alive. She caressed his silver locks between her fingers. All she wanted now was to forget, her hands flickered with scarlet. The power that coursed through her veins had cursed them. SHIELD, no, Hydra and their hatred consumed and spat them out.

“Wanda!”

They were calling her. She wanted to forget. Her left hand touched one of the electrical devices in the jet. She didn’t know how her powers worked, only that they were weird, powerful. Maybe she could call them one last time, for the world to forget, and ease the pain in her heart.

“Kid, what are you doing?”

Her eyes were glowing red as she sifted through the world within her grasp. “I want to…”

* * *

New York, Queens, the large crowd of people bustled out. Various faces and lives converged at the subway station. Some were laughing, busy, and silent as the trains whistled by. It was easy to feel small. Peter Parker adjusted his taped glasses as he clutched onto his trumpet case. His slight frame hobbled forward to the platform.

Whoosh! The train halted, he readied himself. The passengers rushed out from the doors to their next destinations. Peter slipped inside the compartment after the last passenger stepped off. Musky scents of cheap perfumes, sweat, and odor wafted around him. He immediately spotted an empty spot on the bench and rushed over.

“Great, I’m not late,” he mumbled to himself. A lady then sat from the left side of the bench, pushing him next to another passenger.

The person was sleeping. Peter felt himself flush red when he noticed it was a girl. A rather super-pretty girl, who moved her head to lie on his shoulders, was close to him. Her brunette hair cascaded on his shoulders. He could smell a flowery scent.

Should he wake her up?

…

Before he could reach to a conclusion, a pair of blue, no, green eyes fluttered open.

Beautiful—

“Sorry,” her accent was foreign. It was, what people would say, exotic.

Uncle Ben would give him the talking, if he saw him how he was gawking at the girl. He steeled his nerves as best as he could. “N-no, uhm, you didn’t. Uhm— you didn’t bother me.”

The girl nodded to him. It was getting awkward. Talking with girls as pretty as the one seated next to him always got him tongue-tied. Just like his crush in 7th grade.

Peter looked around the train. He avoided glancing back at the girl beside him. The train began to move forward. It was going to be the longest ride he’d ever ridden.

* * *

The pretty girl was sitting next to him still. Maybe she was a tourist, or had moved to New York, Peter’s mind wandered. Though, she looked like those punk rock musicians. Especially, when he noticed her guitar, after he couldn’t resist glancing again at her. There were only a few passengers left inside the compartment.

He wasn’t that much a talker, not with strangers anyway.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the train pulled up to the station. It was the last one before his destination. The pretty girl stood up from the bench. He felt a large feeling of disappointment with himself. He’s in high school now— it should be much easier, right?

Peter took out his phone to distract himself as the other passengers and the girl moved to go out. He began texting Aunt May that he’d be home soon when he noticed something shiny to his right.

A ring— and it looked like it belongs to the girl.

Without farther prompting, Peter grabbed it and rushed out to the doors. He wasn’t going to make it, he made it. His trumpet case thumped down on the ground as he managed to go out. He checked his clasped hand, the ring was safe. Breathing heavily, the teen raised his head to search for the ring’s owner.

He squinted behind his glasses to find her.

She couldn’t have gone too far.

Peter walked towards the subway steps. His eyes began searching in earnest. From the sea of people, he noticed someone stopping and looking for something. It was someone familiar.

“Hi! Wait!” Peter shouted. “Wait!”

It was her. Under the shadowed lights, her eyes were questioning blue. Several commuters passed by them as they stared at each other.

She raised her eyebrow while he shuffled on his feet.

“I— you left something on the train,” Peter managed to say. He held out his hand.

“My ring,” she gasped. She stepped towards him. “Мамин прстен...”

“You left it. I think… uhmm, that you… it might have fallen off.”

“Thank you.”

“Here you are,” he placed the ring on her palm. She clasped it with both hands with tenderness.

“Thank you. This is precious to me,” her eyes watered.

“No problem. I’m glad I caught up with you,” Peter blurted out.

They both stood still for a few minutes, waiting. Several commuters began to shoot them dirty looks as they held up the busy lane. Peter blushed when she suddenly grabbed his free hand and led him back to the station.

“Wait, where are we going?” Peter asked.

“Your stop isn’t here, is it?”

“No…”

“That’s what I thought,” she commented as she continued to hold his hand. “I’m getting you a ticket.”

“It’s alright, it’s not a problem.”

“You missed your train because of me,” she stopped to look at him.

“Hey that’s what people do,” he responded. “That’s what my Uncle taught me, to always do the right thing.”

The girl was pensive. An awkward silence enveloped them.

“I’m Peter by the way,” Peter offered his name, breaking the ice.

She locked eyes with him then he noticed her eyes shift to vibrant green. “I’m Wanda.”

Her eyes were hazel, unique.

* * *

It had been a couple of days since he met Wanda. Sometimes they’d share the same route, he didn’t know why, but he liked to talk to her always. From what he’d learned, she was new in the city and Sokovian. Sokovia, the Eastern European country was in conversation on TV, Internet, and papers. No one knew what happened to its capital Novi Grad except that it got destroyed by the Avengers. The repairs and rehabilitation at the remaining parts of the city were still ongoing for a few months. Rumors of scarlet and blue energies also surfaced there and in St. Johannesburg. Aliens, they said. But the Sokovians, who survived and given refuge by the Avengers, talked about robots. A swarm of robots had apparently invaded their city. News stations then picked up a video posted by a Sokovian citizen of the robot calling itself Ultron.

Peter and Ned watched the video at school when it became viral.

“Dude, it’s just like an IG-100 MagnaGuard,” Ned exclaimed in awe. They were looking at the stills of the video.

“It’s like a cross between a Super Tactical Droid and Iron Man,” Peter observed at the robot.

“Yeah, it flies a bit like Iron Man. Hey, did you hear the news? They say that the Avengers did this. Mom kept talking about how Mr. Stark caused it. She says the guys from news had someone analyze it.”

“The Avengers, they’re heroes. How would, could they do this?”

“My cousin read some conspiracy theory on the web about that, like, it’s from Area 51. I’ve heard on my way here that it might be Hammer Industries. But I bet it’s those Hydra guys.”

“Yeah, I think it’s the Hydra guys too. Have you read from the dump? It was chilling. Those guys were performing illegal experiments to people and animals.”

Ned nodded in agreement. “Yeah, those guys are monsters. Not the Avengers, though.”

Before Peter could reply, the bell rang. Students were rushing out of the cafeteria for their next class. Flash, a fellow freshman, passed by their table.

“Four-eye Parker! I didn’t know tapes are in fashion!” Flash boomed next to Peter’s ear. A bright flash blinded Peter for a second. “I gotta share this to the whole school, poor Parker and his glasses, classic!”

Ned saw the immediate discomfort on Peter’s face. Standing up, he glared at the bully. “Hey! Stop that!”

Flash turned towards Ned, the other kids backed Flash up. “Or what, Neddy, call the teachers? Neddy needs his mommy.”

Peter clenched his fist. Hate flowed through him, but he knew that Flash was bigger than him. He was weak over Flash’s bravado. It was not the first time Peter wished that puberty would bless him, but ever since a child, he was weak. There was no super-soldier formula that could make him like Captain America. He hated this feeling.

“What are you guys doing? Classes are starting,” an older girl approached them. The guys recognized her, Liz Toomes. She was the president of the Decathlon Club and student council secretary.

Most of the students dispersed to the halls of Midtown. Flash gave Peter and Ned the bird before he left them. Some chuckled at Flash’s behavior leaving the cafeteria. Ned immediately dropped back to his seat. He felt shocked at his outburst against Flash.

“Thanks,” Peter mumbled to Liz. She smiled at him.

“No problem, you guys should go to class,” Liz said as she went away. But then she turned to face Peter. “Hey, Parker, I’ve heard from Ms. Warren you used to be in Decathlon before. You should join Midtown’s.”

“Yeah, I-I-I’ll try… yeah...”

“Alright, I got to go.”

The two boys looked at each other. They both were in different classes in the afternoon period. Only a few of the students were with them in the cafeteria.

“I’ll see you later, dude, at practice,” Ned said to his best friend. “We can go to my house, after band?”

“Sure. Also, Ned thanks for that, man.”

* * *

High school, Peter decided was hell. There were too many things to do, and it had been a month. Flash and some of his cronies didn’t help it. Peer pressure sucked.

“I shouldn’t have ordered the milkshake.”

His stomach was bursting with pizza as Peter trudged on to the subway. He and Ned had parted a couple blocks away ago. Band practice was exhausting that both best friends lazed around in the pizza parlor. That decision cost Peter his three-day worth of allowance. A part-time job could solve his problems, but most of the shops he looked up were far from his home.

As he neared the subway, he saw a familiar figure helping an old woman with her heavy bags.

Peter approached them. The younger teen held his hand out to one of the woman’s bags. “Would you like some help, ma’am?”

Wanda raised her eyebrow upon seeing him. Peter only smiled at the lady. Though they’d shared the same route and conversed for a few days, the older teen was always aloof around people. She wasn’t clad or glammed up as a punk rock musician today, he noticed. It was quite a surprise to see her interacting with other people. The only reason that they knew each other was because of her ring. Not that he’d say his thoughts out loud. He still had a sense of self-preservation.

The old lady beamed at him. “Ja, danke schön, you kids are angels.”

“Es ist in Ordnung, wir helfen Ihnen gerne weiter,” Wanda replied as Peter identified it as German. The two teens continued helping the lady down to the station.

“Dein deutsch ist gut Meine Enkelkinder können leider kein Deutsch,” the old lady continued.

“Mein Opa war Deutsch, also habe ich es gelernt,” he heard Wanda reply. They were now at the bottom of the stairs. There were a few people on the platform he noticed. Both Wanda and the lady were still talking in German. A few minutes of confirming their differing routes, they settled in a corner.

“Thank you again,” the lady thanked. Her conversation with Wanda seemed to wind down. “If only my grandkids learned German, it’s nice to talk again with it. I’m sorry young man we had been talking so much. I feel ashamed. My mama would roll over her grave at my etiquette.”

“It’s alright,” Peter responded. It didn’t really bother him that much. “My best friend and his family sometimes don’t talk in English. And I’m learning Spanish in my class. And I know its good practice to speak with other speakers.”

Without warning, Peter felt the old lady’s arms hugging him. He looked surprised at the turn of events. Wanda hid her smile behind her hands as the lady gushed at him in German.

“Well, I’m glad to have met you, children. Oh, my train would be here,” the lady bade her goodbyes.

Wanda glanced at him.

Peter looked down on his shoes. His ears were turning red. “H-How are you, Wanda?”

“Good, same route as always,” the older teen responded. She saw him hunched over with exhaustion. And he was turning a bit red. The bags were heavy, she rationalized.

“Yeah, I guess we got the same route,” Peter replied.

Wanda raised her eyebrow. “Hmmm…?”

The younger teen got tongue-tied. He coughed a few times to regain composure. “So, you know German?”

“Ja, I know several different languages.”

“How many do you know?”

“Sokovian, Romanian, German, and English also some Russian and Spanish, are you alright? You’re red…”

“I’m okay, and you’re a genius,” Peter complimented. “I’m still polishing my Spanish, a-and you can speak six languages.”

“Lots of people are smart,” the older teen commented. “I don’t think I fit the definition of genius.”

“Everyone’s a genius I’ve heard that from my teacher. If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” ”

“I guess I want to be normal from the sea of geniuses. Wait, c’mon, we got our train to catch.”

“That’s rather weird,” the boy made a face. “You choose to be…?”

“I choose to be normal. Extraordinariness and genius, they're overrated.”

* * *

Would time-travel be feasible in the future? How would it work? Would there be someone like Doc, who’d be genius enough, to invent it? Doc and Marty were time travelling in a dynamic timeline. There were many geniuses around the globe— 

“How was school, Peter?” Uncle Ben asked. The Parker family was watching another run of Back to the Future.

Peter snapped out of his thoughts.

It took a lot of willpower from the teen not to think about Flash and his classes. He didn’t want to worry them, so he grinned and bear with it. “Great, everything’s great. I’ve joined the Decathlon club which reminds me to let you guys sign out some papers.”

“Well, high school’s different from middle school,” his uncle said. “Your dad was just like you, he loved science since as a kid. I’m glad you’re doing great and continuing Decathlon. But if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

“Alright, besides I have Ned with me and—“

“Speaking of Ned, I know that your birthday’s over, and this is a bit late. We’re sorry we didn’t get you a gift. So,” Aunt May interrupted her nephew. “Ben and I, have a surprise.”

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched up thinking. It didn’t really bother him much since he knew how hard they’ve been working. But the two adults were full of excitement. Reaching behind the living chair, Aunt May produced an Avenger themed gift-wrapped box.

“Aunt May, Uncle Ben, you shouldn’t have,” Peter’s eye misted.

“Come on open it, Pete,” his uncle urged. Aunt May had taken out her phone to photograph the moment.

Unboxing the gift, Peter saw two boxes within the box. His hand reached for the smaller box, a pair of new glasses, he read. Then he took out the last box. It was a new phone, a Stark phone to be precise. The phone was an older model, but it was still a Stark phone.

“This is too much, new glasses and a phone? I thought—”

“Things are finally looking up for us Parker’s. I got promoted at my job,” Uncle Ben announced. “Besides, I know you deserve it, Peter. You’re a brilliant young man, you’ll be extraordinary. Richard and Mary would have been so proud.”

* * *

The clock on Peter’s new phone was telling him that it was already two in the morning. But the teen was busy tinkering on his old phone. It was for his little project. No one could be Tony Stark, his idol. Even with his limited resources, Peter wanted to create something. Stacks of blueprints scattered over his bedroom floor as he worked.

One day, he’d be something more. Aunt May and Uncle Ben had sacrificed so much for him, and he wanted to repay them. He’d be the next Tony Stark. Someday, someday Flash and the bullies would be sorry.

The lone teen looked at the small device. It’d be extraordinary.

* * *

Peter yawned as exhaustion set on him. It was already late when he and Ned finished the Decathlon practice. Most of its members were nice except for the sole exception of Flash. Sleeping on time was challenging since with the doubled studying materials he had to go over. High school was hard. If he kept on excelling, he'd be like Tony Stark. He could buy the things he wanted and helped out his family.

Ping! Peter looked at his phone. Uncle Ben had messaged him that he was going to be late from work. Then Aunt May had left a message for him to come home early to which he immediately replied. He was skirting thin over his curfew.

The teen sighed and slung his trumpet case over his shoulder.

“Hi,” a familiar voice to his right spoke. “Cómo estás…?”

Peter looked up, it was Wanda. It had always been him who’d initiate their conversations. It was odd. She was wearing all white that contrasted with the dark case of her guitar. Her eyes were dark and red. There was a visage of melancholy on her face. It looked like she had gone to a funeral. Maybe, she did go to one.

“Good. Hey, hello,” Peter’s voice cracked. “I didn’t saw you yesterday and the day before.”

“I took an earlier route than the usual,” Wanda replied as she moved to his side. They both waited for the train to arrive.

“So, the weather’s good today, isn’t it?” Peter asked. Just small talk, but Peter felt his hands sweating. He was glad that he didn’t blush as bright as Iron Man’s armor as the first time around.

“да, it’s different from Sokovia. Its fall back home,” Wanda’s mind wandered. “We… I always like snow.”

Peter heard a hint of sadness from Wanda’s voice. He then blurted out. “I like spring. My aunt and uncle always go to Central Park in the spring with me. We have picnics there. And. My Uncle Ben makes the greatest apple pies.”

“That must be nice.”

“Yeah, nice, they’re the best.”

On time, the train arrived. The two teens step aside to let the other passengers off the train. After a few minutes, they both entered the compartment. It was late already, and the seats were not full. Peter and Wanda sat down near each other.

“So, where do you go to school?” Peter asked Wanda changing to a new topic. He knew that she was maybe a couple of years older than him. She should still be in school.

“I’m still settling in,” she hesitated. “New York is much bigger than Novi Grad.”

“Hey, if you need a tour of the city, you could ask me. We’re friends, right?”

Wanda stared at his hands twiddling with nervousness. She found it endearing, and it brought back old memories. Pietro used to fuss with his hands before, especially when they were still in school. “Thanks.”

Peter didn’t know what came over him asking her for him to give her a tour or being friends. But he was glad to see her smile a little.

“Yeah, you’re a friend,” Wanda said to him.

“Friend…?” Peter echoed.

“пријатељ.”

Peter cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Pri, what does that mean? Prija…?

The older teen rested her head on the guitar case. “It means friend in Sokovian.”

* * *

“I like the trumpet,” Peter stated. “It’s an underrated instrument. Do you only play the guitar?”

The teens were talking for some time since they entered the train.

“When I was young, I learned a bit of violin. Now, I’m much more interested in drums and guitars,” Wanda replied.

“Tony Stark plays the piano, he’s my idol. I mean all the Avengers are cool.”

He saw Wanda rolled her eyes. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Real cool, yeah, the Avengers totally are cool, de parca.”

“They’re all amazing, marvelous with their abilities. After the Battle of New York, I wanted to be like them. They could do things most people could dream of.”

“I'm happy being ordinary. Black Widow and Hawkeye are normal human beings, Stark, too. They’re mortals.”

Peter glanced at his small frame. Mortals? “A serum could transform someone like me to be like Captain America. My uncle and I once visited Captain America’s museum, it was just mind-blowing how science could make someone weak to strong. I wished to be like them. I want to be as great as Iron Man, Tony Stark.”

Wanda flinched at Peter’s words. “You don’t know…”

“Huh?”

Before she could reply, they were nearing her stop. Remembering something, Peter opened his bag.

“Uhmm... Wanda, before you go, here’s my number,” Peter took out his phone. “If you need someone to talk to...”

Wanda locked eyes with him. “Yeah, wait a moment.”

It took a couple of minutes when they finished exchanging numbers. Finally, it was Wanda’s stop.

“Bye. And take care, Wanda.”

“You too, take care. Goodbye.”

Both teens felt a bit more comfortable with each other from the past days. They were more than train buddies now but newly-minted friends.

* * *

Peter rushed back home with a skip on his steps.

“Aunt May? Uncle Ben?” Peter knocked on the apartment door, and then keyed his way in. The lights in the kitchen were on. He placed his stuff on the couch and went straight to the dining table. The amount of walking from the station back home had made him hungry.

There were some leftovers on the table. He tried to move as silent as he can. Peter imagined himself as Hawkeye who was a stealthy secret agent.

“Hello, Pete,” a voice startled him. Uncle Ben. His Uncle stared at him from the hallway.

“Uncle Ben, you’re awake?” Peter gasped. “I thought you’re working late.”

“Apparently, I thought so too, but we managed to finish things earlier than expected. How about you, you’re late?”

“I was hanging out with Ned and a friend,” the teen lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice the time.”

Uncle Ben smiled at him and patted his shoulders. “We’ll let’s not make it a habit, alright. You’re in high school now, 15. And I’ve been also in your age, I know the feeling kid. But you could give me or your Aunt May a call.”

“Yes. I’ll call next time.”

“We didn’t give you a new phone so you couldn’t contact us. Masked vigilantes and criminals are all over the city, we want you safe.”

“Yes, Uncle Ben. I’ll watch out and be safe.”

“Come on, I’m still a bit hungry. Let’s eat. I’ll grab the utensils and you microwaved the dishes, alright?”

The older man went around the kitchen counters and grabbed some utensils. Peter began setting up the microwave. The two continued on making a small midnight supper. After a few minutes, they finished and settled at the dining table.

“Anyway did you make some new friends?” Uncle Ben inquired between bites. “I know you and Ned are thick. What about your teammates?”

“I think I’ve made a new friend,” the teen weighed in.

“It’s the first time I’ve heard about it. Your Aunt May would be so happy. Is this a classmate?”

Peter gulped down a glass of water first. “No, I met her some time ago. She’s not a classmate. And she’s really pretty. Not pretty, beautiful. She’s also kind, talented, and smart. She could speak a lot of different languages.”

There was a twinkle on his Uncle’s eyes that made Peter nervous when he heard his answer.

“Oh, a girl…”

“Yeah…?”

“I guess it’s time for me to give you the Talk. Your Aunt May would be so happy that you have a girlfriend.”

The teen’s eyes widened and nearly choked. He set his fork down and made gagging noises. “I don’t need the talk. I. Don’t. Have. A. Girl. Friend— she’s a friend who happens to be a girl.”

“Of course, I got it, a girl who is a friend. Now Peter since your 15, we should do the Talk. There comes a time when a handsome, strapping, and smart young man like you enter this stage of—“

“Uncle Ben!”

**Author's Note:**

> This story would be short and has a definite end. I'm gonna end this probably on Civil War. And yeah, this story is after Age of Ultron. So, Uncle Ben is still alive. Keyword "still", because we all know what happens for Peter to be Spider-Man. 
> 
> Peter's a bit selfish here because guess what? Teenagers are selfish even if some are more mature. I'm taking inspiration for Peter's personality at the start from the Amazing Fantasy (1962) #15, it really struck me when I read it back how his behavior was. But he grows up from it, that's why Spider-Man is one of the most relatable comics out there. Though he still got a bit of darkness in him. He's human. And I don't know why I keep picturing Matthew McConaughey as Uncle Ben when most fans cast him as Norman Osborne. So, whose your Uncle Ben? Since Matthew McConaughey pops up in my mind.
> 
> Here I am with another story, but I'm going to update my other stories later this week. So, yey for me. Thank you, Google Translate. Sokovian is base on Serbian. Thank you, Internet. Instant research, great. Thank you, Music. Writing is more therapeutic with music as background. Thank you, for whoever is reading this. I'll add more notes later.


End file.
